The Patriot's Conquest (33 page)

“And they will, you know it.”

“I am innocent. They have no proof and will have to release me,” he stated with a conviction she wished she could feel.

They dressed and walked to the big house for breakfast. Dining with Meg and the children was a quiet affair. Meg, warned of what had transpired, kept glancing at her brother. The children had been informed only that some trouble had arisen and “Uncle Jeffrey may have to leave us for a bit.”

The knock to the door came as they were finishing. Amanda’s heart sank to her stomach as Sadie led four men into the dining room.

Jeffrey stood, his shoulders squared, his manner proud as the sheriff told him he was being arrested for arson and taken to gaol. Amanda managed to be brave until the moment Sara hurled herself at Jeffrey.

“Uncle Jeffrey! Don’t leave us!” Sara’s pitiful wail tore her heart. Tears burned the back of Amanda’s throat.

“Mandy,” Jeffrey said hoarsely, “see to Sara. You’re the strong one. You must remain so for me.” He glanced at his sobbing sister and the weeping Miles.

He hugged the little girl. “Sara, sweetie, ’tis only a brief while I’ll be from you. Be a big girl for me. Make me proud.”

Eyes swimming with tears, she stepped back. Amanda put her arms around Sara’s thin shoulders. Jeffrey leaned forward as she kissed him. Then his lips were wrenched from hers as the sheriff’s men jerked him away.

“All will be well, Mandy. This will be all settled and over soon,” he promised as they tied his hands behind his back.

But as she watched the men lead her husband away, Amanda wondered if it weren’t just the beginning of something more dreadful to come.

H
E
’
D SPENT THE
night in gaol wondering what fate awaited him.

Jeffrey shifted his position. Heavy iron shackles clinked together. Straw did little to cushion the rough pine wood floor. An incredibly foul odor filled the tiny cell from the stinking privy in the corner. He felt the two-day-old scruff on his jaw. Amanda liked him without a beard. He shook his head at his wondering thoughts. What did that matter now?

Fear did no good. He let his anger surface instead. Someone had framed him for arson.

He turned as the door unlocked. Gaoler Peter Pellam unlocked his shackles. Jeffrey rubbed his wrists gratefully. “You’ve a visitor. Your lawyer, Mr. Wythe, is here.” Pellam’s voice held a note of awe as he mentioned George Wythe’s name.

“Mr. Pellam, I request to meet with my client outside this foul cell.” George insisted.

Pellam nodded humbly. “You may sit in the exercise yard.”

A few minutes later, he paced the bricked ground of the narrow little exercise yard outside the cell’s courtyard. George, seated on a wood chair Pellam fetched for him, looked deeply troubled.

“By the Almighty, Jeffrey, you are a ghastly sight.” The older man’s face pinched in pain. “Are you all right?”

“Never better. Food’s all the best, accommodations much more cozy than the Raleigh.” A glimmer of his old humor surfaced.

“I’m afraid I have rather bad news. There are several witnesses willing to testify against you.”

Several? Jeffrey felt a last tendril of hope disappear. “How many?”

“At least ten.”

His heart sank with his hopes. Jeffrey sat on the ground. “That many?” he asked in a hoarse whisper. “So many claim they saw me run from Daniel’s house?”

“That and those who overheard what you shouted at Daniel in the Raleigh. As well as other evidence found. Your walking stick outside Merton’s yard.”

Jeffrey snorted. “My stick is at the silversmith’s being repaired. Mandy told me so. The repair, ’tis a wedding gift.”

When George did not respond, his dread increased. “Is it not?”

“Your cane is the evidence that is most damning. I saw it myself. ’Tis not at the silversmith’s.”

He cursed loudly, his shock mounting. “Are you certain? Why would she lie to me?”

George hesitated. “I do not know. Jeffrey, does she have a reason for wanting you in gaol?”

“Why would my own wife want me imprisoned?”

The attorney gave him a level look. “Is she truly loyal to you, Jeffrey? Or to her cousin and England? You forced her to wed. Could this be a plan she conceived to get rid of you as Dunmore had wanted?”

He started to protest and then remembered the day she’d driven to the almshouse, the day she’d taken his cane. Amanda had planned to stop by and visit her mother. Mayhap her mother had coaxed her into the deed. Memories of the heated arguments they’d had over England came to mind. He had stepped out in trust and told Amanda about repairing the muskets, his work to support arming the militia. Had Amanda betrayed him by trapping him with his own cane? Were her whispered words of love actually false pledges?

Grief and anger twined together. Jeffrey rubbed the bristles on his chin.

“’Tis possible,” he muttered, shamed at admitting it.

“Then we must assume she did,” George said gently. “You must not trust her, Jeffrey. Not now. I’ll question her myself. But with the evidence of your cane, and the testimony of the witnesses, it looks quite bad for you unless we find out who could have done this.”

Amanda had whispered she loved him. Surely George was wrong. She could not have taken part in this foul deed and used his cane against him.

Jeffrey gave a humorless laugh. “George, does anyone truly believe I’d be that addle-headed as to leave my cane at the crime scene?”

“’Tis the argument I plan to present myself. But the people are eager for a scapegoat. They are much incensed.”

“What’s the reaction? How is the public leaning?” Slim hope rose again. If most disbelieved the stories that he’d set the fire, there might be a chance.

But George’s eyelids dropped. Jeffrey felt a tinge of real fear. “They think you did it. The witnesses say they saw you running from Merton’s house, yelling for him to burn in Hell.”

“I did no such thing,” Jeffrey snapped. “I was not even in town!”

“Jeffrey, ’tis most urgent you tell me who you were with and why. If you have an alibi, someone I can call to testify on your behalf, he will set you free!”

“Nay.” Jeffrey thought of Daniel. His throat tightened. Betray Daniel and questions would be asked. Dunmore would immediately suspect Daniel of treason. His friend would be clapped in chains and sent sailing to London to be tried and hung.

“’Tis not a matter I can do. If I confess, another man’s life is forfeit. I cannot exchange another life for mine.”

Every bone in his body ached with exhaustion. Walls of imposing red brick surrounded him, seeming to march closer until they closed on him like a tight noose. As his throat constricted, he concentrated on remaining calm.

George glanced about the empty yard and withdrew a crinkled paper from his pocket. “I managed to obtain a copy of the arrest warrant so you could see the charges.”

Jeffrey snatched the document and scanned its contents, his dismay growing. “I’m to be tried for burning down half the town, it seems.”

Rage snaked through him. How could his Mandy do this to him! But had she? She professed to love him. He swallowed, feeling the imaginary noose around his neck pull tight.

George removed the paper and clapped his shoulder. “I shall do my utmost best. Fear not. The Almighty watches over the innocent.”

Jeffrey gave a wry smile, wondering if it were true.

Certainly, this must be what Hell was like.

Three days after her husband’s arrest, Amanda swallowed hard as the gaoler swung open the heavy wood door of Jeffrey’s cell. She walked inside, straining to see. Wood walls soaked up the faint sunlight streaming through a barred window. The hefty stench of a necessary made her want to gag. With all her might, she resisted.

The door thudded shut behind her. More gloom now.

“Amanda.”

She jumped. His lifeless voice lacked its usual husky note. Sitting on a pile of straw upon the floor, Jeffrey leaned against a wall No chairs. No beds. She stifled a shocked gasp. A scruff of beard covered his proud cheeks. His hair was matted and wild, though he’d tried to tie it back. This was not her handsome, dashing husband whose confidence could light up a room.

Her sight finally adjusted to the dimness. Amanda swallowed again. She beamed at Jeffrey, who stared sullenly at her. Why was he acting like this? Wasn’t he happy to see her?

She knelt beside him, noticing with dismay that he was chained to the wall. The heavy manacles looked painful and barbarous. Amanda held out the pudding she brought to him like an offering, and whipped off the cloth covering the dish. She hoped it would bring life to those dead eyes.

“Jeffrey, I made this for you. Baked fresh this morn.”

He looked down at it. Up at her. Gave her a wry smile.

“Smells delicious, but I’ve no appetite.” He looked away again, shutting her out as effectively the heavy cell door.

She set the pudding down, desperation mingling with fresh nausea in her belly. For two days, she’d retched, blaming her illness on the stress of Jeffrey’s incarceration. Finally today she had felt well enough to make the visit.

Amanda tried again to engage him in conversation. How she longed to hear him call her Mandy again! Any kind of affection, even the barest scrap, would suffice. But he remained cold and aloof.

She nudged him gently, then nodded toward the two men sitting quietly. “Jeffrey, who are they?”

His gaze darted into the corner, and he gave a cynical smile. “Why, Amanda, my cell mates. Meet Mr. William Pittman and Mr. John Watkins. Mr. Pittman is accused of beating one of his slaves to death. Mr. Watkins is being gaoled for rape.”

Shuddering, she gazed at her husband. ’Twas so horrid for him here. Amanda put her hand on his thinning arm.

Jeffrey jerked away as if her touch burned, as if she had put him here. She stifled a cry.

Why did he act like this?

Why had she come?

The squab pudding tormented his grumbling stomach. Pride resisted. Jeffrey refused to take anything from her. Not after she’d so effectively betrayed him. George had returned earlier, informing him Amanda had sworn she’d sent the cane to the silversmith’s. Jeffrey’s bitterness stuck in his throat as he thought of how Amanda had probably framed him. Dunmore had set her to the trap. Why, maybe he even gave a nod of approval to her marrying Jeffrey for that very reason.

Hunger, exhaustion and gnawing fear made the thoughts dance about in his head, chasing away logic.
Amanda betrayed you
, the voices mocked.
Doesn’t love you. Loves England more
. Anger came with the fury of a flooded spring creek. Amanda had framed him for arson. His own cane used against him! How had he been so gullible to think she’d turn her back on England? Her loyalty to the Crown came before all else. She only professed to love him.

Now she came to the cell to gloat, those huge violet eyes seeming so innocent and wide. Jeffrey’s throat went dry. For the first time since meeting her, he lacked any desire for her.

He stared at his hands. Not that he’d want to touch her. He felt disgusting and dirty. Seeing her was like glimpsing an angel amid filth. Even her green gown feathered with white blossoms seemed to be lit with a soft glow. A delicate scent of lavender cut the cell’s foul stench. He wished she hadn’t come. Wished she would not leave. When she left, she’d take the light with her.

“Jeffrey, I want to help. You are my husband.”

“Help?” he repeated.

She lowered her voice. “I will speak in French so no one will understand.” Amanda began doing so. “Tell me what to do. I can use my influence with Lord Dunmore. Perhaps persuade him to release you.”

Now he did laugh. Bitterness rose like acid. “Use your influence. ’Tis a mighty strange thing to do when you and he have already reached your goal,” he replied in flawless French.

“
Je ne comprehend pas
,” she said, looking bewildered.

He tugged angrily at the manacles and switched back to English. “You don’t understand? I will explain. Who sweetly offered to repair my cane? Who offered to take it to the silversmith’s as a wedding gift? And what instrument of mine was found at the crime scene?”